


Boku no Minami Kōen Hīrō

by shippingParaphernalia



Category: South Park, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: BNHA South Park AU, BNMKH, Blood and Injury, Boku No Minami Koen Hero, Class 1-A Shenanigans (My Hero Academia), Developing Relationship, Eric Cartman Being Eric Cartman, Multi, My Hero Academia - Freeform, Pining, South Park AU, Why did I write this when I know the chances of actually finishing it are in the negatives, blargh thats all i can think of, bnha - Freeform, bnha au, enjoy you gremlins, south park - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 20:52:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15737133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shippingParaphernalia/pseuds/shippingParaphernalia
Summary: Why did Kenny want to be a hero?It boiled down to the principle of the thing, he guessed.He, like Principal Victoria, wanted to make something that'd outlive him. Some kind of tribute to this bitch of an earth that also doubled as a memorial. Something that, when people looked at it, associated with him-- “Oh, there's that charity drive the McCormick kid set up. Kenny, right?”Not that he'd make a fucking charity drive.~~[Also known as BNMKH, a South Park/BNHA AU. Will be updated sporadically. Comments are chicken soup for the soul!]





	Boku no Minami Kōen Hīrō

**Author's Note:**

> After months of being a filthy South Park fan, I discovered BNHA and. Yeah. This is the product of that!  
> Basically it's the SP kids in the BNHA universe-- no crossovers here, no sir. 
> 
> My tumblr is @fiddler-unroofed if you wanna yell at me or whatever uwu

There were a lot of things the Red Herald didn't like.

Cold weather. Club sandwiches. Waiting for half hour in line at the cafe so fucking Maurissa could ask about every single ingredient in the aforementioned club sandwich. Alcohol. Dirt on his nice white carpet.

And, of course, heroes.

Because you could leave the country if the weather got to be too much for you. You could order something else if you didn't like the sandwiches offered. You could push that bitch Maurissa aside and then apologise and sweetly tell her it was an _accident_ while you ordered your banana free smoothie.

You could take measures and fix things and tweak your lifestyle so you didn't have to deal with _any_ of this shit.

But heroes were like cockroaches.

Wherever you went, whatever you did-- they'd be there. Prancing around like lambs in those ridiculous flashy costumes, “saving" people so long as they too got something out of it. It was disgusting. It was disgraceful.

And it had dirtied his nice white carpet.

“What the _fuck_ am I supposed to be looking at here.”

Ghee looked up innocently from where he was perched on the white carpet. On _his_ white carpet. Well, maybe white wasn't the best word for it anymore-- blood was seeping into it like water into a sponge, staining the white and dying it a dark pink. The Herald was pretty sure he could even spot traces of vomit.

Red danced in his vision. He tried to choke it back with a smile.

Ghee smiled back at him, blissfully ignorant. “Aw gee, you came in on a bit of a bad time, Red! I was just tidyin’ this little fella up.”

On the ground, his victim gargled once before going still. The Herald squinted at him. Not much could be discerned about him anymore thanks to Ghee’s masterful handiwork, but some features could still be spotted out: matted blond hair. A single half closed eye. And, of course, a giant pink blob covering the entire right half of his face.

The Herald let his anger melt into interest. Temporarily.

“Is this the guy?”

Ghee grinned wickedly at him. He was brandishing two short knives. They were both bloodied. “ _Was_.”

Not for the first time, the Herald felt a twinge of discomfort at how into _this_ aspect of villainy his accomplice was, but just as quickly shrugged it off. He needed people like Ghee on his team if he wanted anything to get done. Camargue was great and all, but he wasn't exactly villain material.

Not that the Herald really thought of himself as a villain. More of a savior, really. A tragically misunderstood one.

He clasped his hands together. “ _Was_ , okay, yeah. So with him gone, is everything set in motion?”

Ghee nodded, eyes trailing away from the Herald and focusing back on his victim with an almost hungry intensity. “Should be, yep! I did all you asked, now I'm just playin’ a bit, hehe.”

“Well, stop it. You completely ruined my carpet.”

“It wasn't _our_ fault,” Ghee pouted. “Cam brought us here. I asked to be put in the interrogation room, but I don't think he was all there when I told him, if ya know what I mean.”

He tapped his forehead knowingly, and the Herald sighed.

_Go figure._

Camargue’s quirk got a little wonky when he was influenced by… outside substances. Which nowadays he was. A lot.

The Herald had already tried using his quirk to get him to stop, and then when that only had a week-long effect he'd hidden all the offending items he could find from him. But with a quirk like Camargue’s he might as well have saved his breath.

“I'll talk to him,” he muttered. “Now get that kid to the interrogation room. Or the garbage disposal, if you're done.”

Ghee’s eyes flashed back to him maniacally. His grin widened. “Done? I just got started!”

The Herald avoided his gaze.

_What a freak._

“Fine. But seriously get him off my carpet before I decide you deserve the same fate as him.”

“Sure thing, boss!” Ghee chirped without missing a beat, and then bam, the kid was on his floor and the damage done to his beautiful carpet was in plain sight.

The Herald felt himself twitch. The red that was seeping into the corners of his vision again was the same shade as the one on the carpet, the same as the one gushing from the boy's torn open stomach. The Herald was far from weak stomached but… _god_.

He turned away from the sight and grabbed his coat from where it'd been hanging neatly from a hook, trying to will away the red.

“God, that's sick. _You're_ sick.”

“Hehe, I try!”

“Just… Ugh. Clean up after you're done. I'm going out.”

“You know I will, but aw, Red, where are you goin’?”

The Herald ignored the question and opened the door. _Unlocked. Of course._ It opened soundlessly, and he stepped outside, turning to face his accomplice and victim one last time as he prepared to close the door on them.

They seemed oddly out of place in the cozy atmosphere the Herald had managed to map out in their house. Pretty paintings adorned the walls, old school trophies and scented candles the shelves. The once white carpet had been a centerpiece attraction in the middle of their living room; a comfy place to rest their feet, if not (in Ghee’s case) just sit on as they watched TV and plotted.

Now though, the carpet was ruined. As was the floor. And the picture perfect atmosphere he'd worked so hard to build.

The Herald, as ridiculous as he knew it was, found himself hating the guy in that moment. 

Not Ghee. He'd just been doing what he, the Herald, had ordered. Not even Camargue, even though he'd have plenty reason to-- the poor guy had his own issues to work out.

No, in that moment, he hated the victim.

That stupid meddling berry headed idiot who'd come into his house, if not by agreement, and had fucked up everything. Half of the Herald almost wanted to join Ghee in his creepy pseudo surgery, but he held himself back.

No use getting himself all bloodied now just to release some tension. No use stooping to Ghee’s level and plunging his hands, elbow deep, into the boy's stomach, pulling out his kidney and heart and intestines and _god how fun would it be_ to wrap the intestines around his throat even though he was already dead and yank them in opposite directions, yank and pull and strangle until the boy's unseeing eyes popped out and the red finally left his field of vision?

_God,_ it'd be fun.

But he couldn't.

Couldn't?

Wouldn't.

Even if the kid deserved it. Even if he was a stupid little hero wannabe who'd come into his house and ruined it.

He wouldn't.

So instead of joining his accomplice in the  _ ~~fun~~_ crime, he turned his back on them both, tried to ignore the way his hands trembled and the furniture shook, and answered his question from earlier.

“I'm going to go buy myself a banana free smoothie before that bitch Maurissa gets there.”

* * *

Kenny McCormick was a simple guy. He really was.

He lived in a simple house (as one typically does when their income is next to nonexistent), ate simple food (he'd earlier boiled ramen for the fourth night in a row) and had a simple job (unemployed).

Now, if he hypothetically died all the time and next to no one remembered it, that was another matter entirely, but the fact remained that really, there was nothing extraordinary about Kenny McCormick.

Nothing at all.

“Hello, students and students to be!”

Principal Victoria’s voice rang out in the auditorium, ridiculously amplified by the megaphone she was holding. Kenny shrank back into his hoodie, wincing. _Can she get any louder?_

He couldn't help but squirm as the pro hero surveyed the room, even though he was all the way in the back and there was no way she could see him. She'd dressed for the occasion in her usual hero attire: rose tinted glasses, short heels, and a black pantsuit. Thin pink wires curled around the suit’s sleeves and led to the palms of her hands, where they melted into two small suction cups. The kinds you might see on the end of a stethoscope at a doctor's appointment.

Indicators of her quirk.

Kenny had heard that most female heroes liked to equip their femininity to their advantage. They'd wear skin tight outfits and striking makeup, give themselves titles like “Sedusa" and “Kissin’ Kate" and then wonder why they were rated PG13.

Fuck, getting to meet those heroes was partly why he'd wanted to be a hero to begin with.

Principal Victoria wasn't like that though.

Maybe it was because she was a senior hero, well into her 40s. Maybe it was because she knew her career wouldn't benefit in the long run from a stage presence like that. Hell, maybe it was just not her thing. Either way, she'd earned herself a name as one of the few modest female heroes and one of the two founders of UA-- and the name she'd used was her own.

Kenny wanted to be like her.

Not in looks. If he was gonna be a chick, he'd like to have perkier titties than _that_ , thank you very much. No, he wanted to be like her in _actions_.

He, like Principal Victoria, wanted to make something that'd outlive him.

Some kind of tribute to this bitch of an earth that also doubled as a memorial. Something that, when people looked at it, associated with him-- “Oh, there's that charity drive the McCormick kid set up. Kenny, right?”

Not that he'd make a fucking _charity drive._

He wanted to be a hero, not head of a soup kitchen. The tribute he'd create would be of a much larger scale, and would offer much more to people than temporary relief and lukewarm stew.

And going off of his stupid fucking curse of a quirk, he'd have a lot of time to decide what exactly that tribute would be.

“--so by all means, try your best!”

Kenny blinked, abruptly snapping back to the present.

The Principal was smiling in a way that signalled an end to the conversation, and some students in the front rows were already standing up. On the screen, there were diagrams of giant metal creatures-- none of which he recognized.

_oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck_

He scanned the images desperately, hoping to at least make _some_ sense of them, but then the screen turned black and the demonstration was over.

_no no no no no_

That couldn't have been it. He'd only zoned out for a minute. He couldn't have missed _all_ the rules, right? This was just a water break or something. It had to be.

But as more and more students left their seats, the terrifying realisation started to settle in, and Kenny was forced to face the facts:

The practical exam was starting now. And he'd missed all of the rules.

**_oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck ohf_ **

Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he nearly jumped out of his skin, startled from his thoughts.

_And wouldn't that have been a great death,_ his brain nagged at him. _Number 1,347. Cause: surprise. Least it'd make matters more interesting than the usual “got hit by a car” or “impaled by a pole”--_

He shook the thought off. It was already a miracle he hadn't died today-- the last thing he needed now was to jinx it before the biggest exam of his life started.

The exam he knew nothing about.

He turned to face the person.

_“What?”_ he snapped.

The girl (for it was a girl) smiled at him, and the sharpness in Kenny’s tone died at once.

“Sorry to scare you,” she said sweetly. “I just wanted to ask-- you're Kenny, right?”

Kenny just stared at her.

Fuck.

She was _cute._

To be fair, there weren't many girls (or for that matter, people) Kenny _didn't_ think were cute, but this girl really took the cake.

Her skin was peach colored, her lips ruby red. On her nose, a pair of almond shaped designer sunglasses rested. Honestly, she was so confident and put together it almost drew attention away from the snakes ( _real fucking live snakes_ ) interwoven in her wavy blonde hair.

_“Uh,”_ he finally said. And nothing else.

The girl laughed, but it sounded a little strained. People were leaving the room, and by the way her fingers drummed on the back of his chair, Kenny could tell she wanted to follow suit. “Okay. Look, if you are Kenny, I just wanted you to know we're in the same battle center, so…”

Kenny swallowed. His throat felt like sandpaper. _“Uh. Hmgh. Thanks.”_

The girl stood up and started making her way down the row. Kenny dutifully followed, his original panic fading as he did. As long as he had this girl to follow and tell him what to do, nothing could go _too_ badly, right? "No problem, maybe-Kenny. You looked a little zoned out there. I figured maybe you hadn't heard your name called.”

_“Yeah, I was just--"_ Daydreaming about Principal Victoria? Thinking about his future career as a hero? “ _\--sleepy.”_

“Well, you should probably wake up.” Although the girl was walking ahead of him and Kenny couldn't see her face, he could almost feel her smile. “This is one of the biggest exams we'll ever take in our lives!”

By now they'd reached an open ended courtyard, with buildings lined asymmetrically on each side and trees littering about. Kenny glanced around. A bunch of kids, more than 20, mulled around anxiously. None of them, save him and this girl, were talking to each other.

_Rivals already?_

The girl nodded like she'd read his mind. Was that her quirk? Kenny wasn't sure if it was poor etiquette to ask. “They've split us all up so we're not with anyone from our old schools. They don't want anyone working together, I suppose.”

“ _That's weird_ ,” Kenny frowned. “ _I thought teamwork was, like, a big thing in hero work.”_

“Oh, it is. This is just a test of our individual abilities. At least that's what I think. Do you remember if it was mentioned in the instructions?”

Kenny’s heart did a 360° flop at the mention of the instructions. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, and tried to amend his mistake in the least obvious way possible:

_“I think so, yeah, you're right. Hey, speaking of which, do you know how they're gonna grade--”_

“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?”

A new voice boomed through the courtyard, causing several students to jump. Kenny was pretty sure he even spotted one girl faint. He looked around in confusion to see where the voice was coming from, and settled on the speakers nestled in the trees.

Was this the exam? To destroy the speakers?

He went to run towards one, but the girl again beat him at his own thoughts: she stretched out an arm for him to fall into stomach-first. Kenny gagged.

“ _Fuck, what was that f--”_

“REAL LIFE ISN'T LIKE AN EXAM!” the voice roared. “YOU GET NO READY SET GO, ALRIGHT? DON'T BE  PANSIES AND GET ON WITH IT, BRO!”

The voice crackled out angrily, and Kenny _just_ pieced together what was happening before giant metal robots reared up in the distance and he was trampled within an inch of his life by the other students running towards them.

_Oh fu_

He instinctively curled into himself, trying to stay shielded from the thundering that rumbled in the ground, in his ears, in his _skull_ and threatened to burst him open from his already flimsy seams.

Kenny had been trampled to death before, and as far as he was concerned it wasn't the worst way to go, but god, _not today._ Today was the biggest day of his life and he'd already fucked it up. He couldn't fuck it up even more. Not before he'd even _started_.  
Luckily as soon as it had started the rumbling suddenly stopped, and Kenny risked opening an eye. Every bone in his body ached, and he was pretty sure someone had purposefully kicked him in the ribs, but other than that he was still alive. Thank god.

He instinctively looked around for the girl who'd been so nice to him, but she was gone too, swept up with the others in the examination frenzy.

_Oh fuck. The examination._

He leapt up, ignoring his body's protests, and half ran half dragged himself to the center of the fight. By the time he got there, his breathing was shallow, and each step was a new kind of pain, but he tried to ignore it.

Around him, the students he'd seen so innocently standing about had kicked into action.

One guy let out a giant burst of electricity with a yell, his eyes wild as his giant metal opposition (and two more behind him) keeled over. Another reached into his pockets and threw out a bunch of what looked like clay dolls but which slowly grew and grew until they were almost the size of the robot itself and wrangled it to the ground. A girl smiled as her eyes glowed white, and the scent of fresh earth filled the air.

Kenny watched them desperately.

_Oh fuck, oh fuck, how am I supposed to fight like this? I don't even know what I'm supposed to do-- fight the robots, I think? But even if I wasn't all banged up like this, my quirk isn't a fighting one... Oh god, I can't ask for help, this isn't a team exam, that cute girl said so--_

“Get out of the way, Kienny!”

He felt a sharp elbow in his side, and he yelped as he was pushed away. The offender, some fat kid with a scowl etched into his face, shot a jet of fire at a towering multi-eyed creature ( _where the fuck did that thing come from_ ) before turning back to Kenny with a leer.

“Either get involved or leave it to the pros, Kienny,” he snipped.

Kenny stared at him in disbelief. He wasn't sure where that robot had appeared from. He wasn't sure how this kid knew his name. He wasn't sure what this kid was even _talking_ about. But he was sure of one thing-- he knew him from somewhere.

_“Carlin?”_ he said tentatively.

The guy looked at him like he was insane and started to turn away, back to the battle zone. In his palms, embers were beginning to crackle again.

In a spur of the moment decision, Kenny grabbed him by the shoulder, then just as quickly withdrew his hand with a shriek. It was burning, boiling hot. He succeeded in getting the guy’s attention, though-- he turned around again, already deep scowl deepening.

“What?”

_“Crackman?”_

“ _ **What**?” _

_“I know you,_ ” Kenny said lamely. Around him, explosions sounded, sounds of people yelling and fighting and getting hurt, and some dim part of him warned him that now was not the best time to catch up with old school mates, and that he hadn't even scored one point yet, and yet--

“Of course you do,” the kid said in disgust. “We used to be, like, best friends.”

“ _Wha--”_

“EIGHT MINUTES!”

The kid pushed him aside again. A sizzling sound in his palm was the only warning he gave before another burst of fire erupted from him, streaking towards a robot all the way across the town and breaking it on the spot.

The kid who'd been closer to it, some guy with a blue hat (Kenny couldn't see that well) flipped him off.

The fat kid flipped him back.

Then he turned back to Kenny, anger boiling in his gaze.

_“Get the fuck outta my way, Kienny,”_ he seethed. “This is an exam, numbnuts. No alliances allowed. Besides--” (and here his hands lit up a third time, and his scowl slowly flipped into a slightly wild grin) “--I work alone.”

Kenny had just enough time to dive out of the way before the tree behind him was annihilated, and the guy who claimed to be his old best friend burst out laughing.

“Focus on yourself, Kienny!” he howled. “I told you from before there was no way you'd get in!”

Kenny picked himself up quickly from where he'd landed on the sidewalk, ignoring the jolt of pain that coursed through him as he did. He looked at the fat asshole, and for a moment thought of saying something. Something about what a dick he was, or that he didn't know what he was talking about.

Instead, he turned away and started running.

He remembered who this kid was now. His name was _Cartman,_  and Kenny wanted nothing to do with him since elementary.  
And sometimes the best way of not having anything to do with someone was to put some distance between you and them. Literally.

Now a fair distance away, he paused to catch his breath. His joints felt like they were on fire, and half of him was tempted to just give in to death already, but again he ignored it.

_I haven't even got one point yet, and already I want to quit. What kind of hero am I?_

He looked around with a tinge of desperation, hoping to see another weird multi eyed robot in sight. In the distance he could hear the fighting rage on.

_Ah fuck. Maybe I should have run in the opposite direction._

He turned and had started readying himself to run _(in the right fucking direction this time)_ when he heard it.

A scream.

A _girl's_ scream.

Kenny paused. The scream had come from the other direction-- the one he'd stupidly run towards in his attempt to get away from Eric fucking Cartman. In following it, he'd distance himself even more from the fighting center. And he didn't even have one point yet.

But then the girl screamed again, and Kenny found that his legs were already moving.

_“Hello?”_ he called, and then, figuring that his hoodie wasn't really helping things: “Lady? Lady who screamed? Are you okay?”

“Maybe-Kenny?” an answering voice called.

Kenny swerved into the corner where it came from, and found himself face to face with the cute girl from before. She looked pretty banged up-- blood was trickling from a cut in her forehead, her sunglasses were cracked and perched at a weird angle and the snakes woven into her hair were hissing in agitation. Still cute though. Of course.

He took a step towards her, then another one back again.

“Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, are you okay?”

The girl shrugged, wiping at the cut. The blood smeared across her forehead. Kenny chose not to mention it. “It's just a cut. The reason I screamed was to draw attention-- I didn't know if anyone was gonna show up.” She smiled strenuously. “I'm more worried about my leg. I hurt it in a fight with one of those villain bots.”

Kenny glanced down at it and winced. Sure enough, the ankle was twisted at an almost inhuman angle-- an angle that he remembered experiencing on almost every limb of his body.

“Ouch. That hurts like a bitch.”

“Yep,” the girl confirmed. She went to prop herself up, but Kenny was there before her, wrapping her arm around his shoulders as he helped her stand.

She smelled like strawberries and sweat-- it was a strange combination, but damn if she didn't rock it. If Kenny could, he would have kissed here there and then. As it was though, he settled for a weak smile before pulling his hoodie back up with his free hand.

“ _Don't worry,”_ he said. _“I'll make sure you don't get hurt, uh…?”_

“Bebe,” the girl offered with a beautiful, if slightly wobbly smile, and Kenny could have sworn his heart melted on the spot. “My name’s Bebe.”

_“A pretty name for a pretty girl.”_

Bebe laughed, then winced. “Ow. Shit. But yeah, thanks. Are you always this good with words?”

_“Nah. You saw how I was earlier. Usually I'm the quiet type. Sitting in the back of the school yard, smoking, drinking non-age appropriate drinks… I leave the poetry to  the Shakespeare wannabes.”_

“A bad boy, huh?”

“ _A bad boy training to be a good hero."_

It was like this, with playful no-effort banter, that he helped carry her out of the alley, onto the sidewalk, and back near the battle zone.  
Bebe had already gotten 23 points, and had shown complete understanding when Kenny explained that he had to go back and get at least one: “Fuck, maybe-Kenny, you're already lugging me around with you. It wouldn't be fair of me to ask you to give up _everything_ for me.”

Kenny had thanked her. He hadn't expected her to be the swearing type, but couldn't help and feel glad she was. While he didn't have many preferences in people, he could not _stand_ those stuck up holier-than-thou chicks with their noses in their air and their vocabularies pulled from the fucking thesaurus.

Bebe, despite being one of the hottest girls he'd ever seen, wasn't like that.

Now in the center again, he propped her under a tree. Worry tied knots in his stomach, and he almost wanted to forfeit the examination in favor of watching after her, but she insisted otherwise.

“If I get in and you don't, I won't forgive myself, maybe-Kenny.”

And so here he was.

Back where he started, but surrounded by considerably less robots, and considerably more tired kids.

“FOUR MINUTES LEFT!” roared the trees.

Kenny quickly searched around for a bot he could get to in time, and settled for a skinny scorpion-like one. Picking up a rock, he did the first thing he could think of: he threw it at it. A faint “clank" was the only damage it did, but it was enough for the scorpion bot to turn around. Three beady red eyes focused on him, and Kenny had never felt so small.

He timidly waved. “ _Uh. Hi._ ”

The scorpion bot lunged.

Kenny dodged, and the bot crashed against a building with a loud bang. For a second, it was still, and Kenny wondered if it was already broken, but then slowly it detached itself and searched around again for its prey.

“ _Over here!_ ” Kenny called, jolting over to the other side of the sidewalk. He could barely feel any of his former pain, too filled with adrenaline. Of course, he knew it'd all come crashing down later-- when he went home, when he fought with his dad, when he visited the cemetery like he did on big days like this.

That is, if he hadn't already died by then.

The scorpion bot trained its eyes back on him and lunged again, crashing once more into the new building behind Kenny as the aspiring hero dodged just in time.

_“You're not that smart, are ya?”_ he called, starting to enjoy this. Maybe he could get through the whole exam without using his dumb fucking curse of a quirk. Just luring in some stupid bots and getting them to crash into things-- he wouldn't lose points for that, would he?

The scorpion bot’s movements were slowing, and Kenny had just done the “taunt and dodge" routine for the fourth time now before he heard it again.

A scream.

The same one as before.

_Bebe--!_

Instantly dissuaded from defeating the bot at hand, he turned on his heel and ran, past the scorpion bot and the fighting students and the fallen robots to the tree where he'd left her, the tree that -- _no longer was there?_

Sure enough, the tree was uprooted, held in the giant hand of the most enormous humanoid bot that Kenny hadn't encountered till now-- if eight eyes and wheels counted as humanoid, anyway.

Below it, Bebe was sprawled, desperately trying to run away on her injured ankle only to stumble, fall and try again.

Kenny ran towards her.

_“Bebe!”_

He looked around anxiously for the others, but came up empty. Where the hell were they? Previously they'd clamored to defeat their bots, and yet here was a new one and no one was anywhere to be seen. No matter. Kenny could do this.

Kenny _would_ do this.

He picked up another rock and threw it at the giant metal beast. _“Hey!”_ he yelled. _“Big boy!”_

No response. The robot just continued to advance, its giant wheels crushing everything in its path. Where, coincidentally, Bebe was as well.

Ditching the rock idea instantly, Kenny dove onto the pavement and pushed her with all his might away. Bebe cried out in pain, but no matter: she was out of harm's way now. And he was in it.

He went to dart away again, but it was too late. He tripped, and a looming shadow overtook him. Then wheels.

Kenny had been through a lot of deaths. Decapitation, electrocution, asphyxiation, hypothermia. If he was gonna make a list, it would probably span a thousand pages.

But getting crushed to death under the giant wheels of a robot as a cute girl screamed and the trees yelled “TIME’S UP!”?

That was a new one.

The last thing he heard before the world went dark was the sound of his own spine being crushed.

* * *

"But he got no points!”

Principal Victoria sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

She liked working with PC Principal, she really did-- his liberal outgoing attitude was a sound complement to her conservative quiet one. While there was, and never would be a romantic entanglement between the two of them, the fact that remained that PC Principal, as her dearest friend and co-founder of UA, was the closest thing she'd consider a soulmate.

That didn't mean he couldn't be one dumb son of a bitch sometimes though.

“PC Principal,” she explained patiently for what had to be the sixth time now, “it doesn't _matter_ if he got no combat points. What matters is that he gave his life to save another student from a no-point villain bot despite having no chance of passing without a point!”

Her coworker scowled, visor flashing.

“No, no, I totally get that, bro. I'm just saying though, we're a school that deals with a lot of combat, and I don't know how well young -- Kenneth, was it?-- would fare under such conditions with a quirk like that. No disrespect to people with un-combat directed quirks, though. They're all stunning and brave in their own right.”

“For God's sake, man,” Chef protested.  “The children got his spine crushed under a giant robot just to save another children. If that ain't heroic, I don't know what is.”

PC Principal raised his hands defensively. “Chef, I'm not trying to speak over you or assert my dominance as a heterosexual Caucasian man, but--"

“Why'd you mention _heterosexual,_  you mother--”

“Gentlemen,” Principal Victoria snapped. “Please.”

Chef sulked, crossing his arms over his blood splattered apron angrily. He'd just come from the healing center to announce that he'd tried his best with the boy, but had failed-- Principal Victoria had thought she might faint before she asked to see him herself and realised it was all a part of his quirk. And it was this realisation, pieced together with the footage from the entrance exam, that had led to this argument right now.

“Sorry, Principal,” he muttered. “But I'm just saying, if this school has any scraps of dignity left--”

“We're a very dignified school,” Principal Victoria reassured him. “Just as you're a very dignified healer. Go back to your station now. Me and my coworker have lots to discuss.”

“And we're not telling you to go because of your African-American descent,” PC Principal hastily added. “We're a very progressive school who values opinions of everyone regardless of gender, sexuality, rage, age or species--"

“Suck my balls,” Chef snapped before storming out the door.

Principal Victoria sighed. “I'm sorry about all that, PC, but the fact remains that he's right. Kenneth has done the most self sacrificing act I've seen in years. And with a quirk like that, what else could he possibly do in this exam?”

Her coworker remained silent and crossed his arms thoughtfully. He, like her, was dressed in his common hero attire meant to boost up his quirk: a tight fitted blue shirt with the PC label scrawled across his chest; equally tight fitted white pants. On his hands, two pairs of brass knuckles were clamped.

PC Principal provided the offense for this administration, just as much as she did the defense. Not that the roles were set in stone, though. Principal Victoria was a protector by nature, but god knew she'd thrown many a punch in her career.

She set a hand on PC Principal's shoulder lightly.

“Let him in,” she said gently. “He did a noble thing. We need more noble kids in this school. And besides, we can train his quirk on the offense.”

He hesitated. “I don't know, Victoria--”

“He's poor,” she added. “Very unprivileged. It'd practically be a microaggression _not_ to let him in.”

She couldn't help but grin a bit as her coworker turned first red, then white. His eyebrows rose, then furrowed, and he looked like he was trying really hard to swallow a mouse. She could practically sense the duality raging inside him.

Finally, he cracked.

“God! God, fine, Victoria. He's in. He's yours. But his parents better be registered Democrats, or I swear to god bro, there's gonna be dicks to draw on people's faces.”

She rolled her eyes and pulled back her hand. “Of course, PC.”

Turning to her desk, she rummaged in a drawer before pulling out a small digital scroll and flicking a switch on it, motioning him over to assist her in recording.

Together, they smiled brightly as the holograph turned on.

“Hello, prospective student! We're here to bring you a very good announcement…”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments make me cry like a little bitch from happiness ;w;


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